


How I Wish I Was in Pawnee Now

by Janet Carter (janet_carter)



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janet_carter/pseuds/Janet%20Carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Captain Leslie Knope mounts a daring rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Wish I Was in Pawnee Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillscape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillscape/gifts).



> A nautical AU, with apologies to Patrick O'Brian.

They said Leslie Knope was the luckiest commander in Li'l Sebastian's Royal Navy. But her luck, she knew (and could often be heard to say over port and cigars) was due in large part to her preparation, her expertise, and the tireless efforts of her loyal crew.

"But how did you know that the Eagletonian frigate was almost out of ammunition?" asked Ann Perkins, her beautiful ship's surgeon and best friend. They were relaxing in the captain's quarters after another stunning victory.

"Ann, Ann, you beautiful, radiant dolphin," Leslie said with a fond shake of her head. "That was no frigate; didn't you see the quarterdeck?" Ann had been sailing with her for years and was brilliant in all things medical, but she was still confused by simple nautical terms.

"Excuse me, Captain?" Lieutenant Ludgate was in the doorway. "The admiral wants to see you. Or he surrendered to us. Something with flags, I dunno, flags are boring."

"Thank you, April!" Leslie said. "Your study of semaphore is going well. Excuse me, Ann. The admiral calls, so I must go."

Admiral Ron Swanson's flagship, HMS _Silver_ , sat farther down the Bay of Pawnee. Leslie loved visiting the admiral; he might be a little gruff, but he often had surprising words of wisdom to share with her, and they had become good friends in their years campaigning together on the waters of Lake Michigan.

"Good to see you again, Ms. Knope," said Admiral Swanson. "I was afraid the Eagletonians had you that time."

"I kicked their lame-o asses," Leslie said brightly, then remembered her dignity. "Respectfully, sir. It was amazing; they tried the Gernway gambit but we beat them right back." She was getting worked up again at the memory and punched the air – ooh, speaking of air. "Did you know the wind was blowing nor-nor' east for the past seven days? That hasn't happened since I was a second lieutenant!"

"Yes," said Swanson. "My trusty barometer keeps me apprised; I've had it since I was a boy." He gestured to the item on his wall, an elegantly carved hunk of oak. He'd once told Leslie that he made it himself at the age of seven ("obviously, from the apprentice-like craftsmanship. It's an embarrassment but it's one of the little sentimentalities I'm known for.")

"It's a great opportunity," said Leslie. "If you let me take HMS _Bonny Anne_ up the lake, I could have five more enemy catamarans by the end of the month."

"That would be quite a sight," said Ron, chuckling, "and I suppose I could find some use for the prize money, as ludicrous as the practice is. Gold, just for sitting here with my flag flying." His chortle grew louder.

"I'll take your share if you don't want it," said Leslie. "I have some custom upgrades planned for _Bonny Anne_ as soon as I get the funding." She had been working on the designs for months; by the time she was done, it would be a beautiful model for future Naval designs. She had already planned her gracious response to the request for copies of the blueprints; no, no payment would be necessary, she did it all for love of country – why yes, it would be an honor to have the design named after her.

"Unfortunately, I have a less lucrative mission for you," said the admiral. "It calls for the utmost discretion, and lives may be in the balance."

"You can count on me!" Leslie said eagerly. "Unless it involves sea shanties; I'm out for sea shanties."

"A political attaché has been captured by the enemy," Ron said, serious now. "I believe you know him: Undersecretary Wyatt."

Leslie gasped. "Ben – Mr. Wyatt!" They had become close while working on a strategy for trade negotiations with a faction from Indianapolis, and had finally admitted their strong feelings to each other. They'd been on the verge of an understanding, but then Leslie was called to duty. She hadn't told the admiral about her relationship with Ben, but she wouldn't be surprised if he had noticed; he tried to be misanthropic but had a great deal of insight. Also one time he had walked into the room while she had her hand on Ben's posterior. Now, that butt was in danger – held for ransom, possibly tortured for information while she stood here in the flagship. "I'll find him, whatever it takes," she swore.

"Good woman," said Admiral Swanson. "I wouldn't want to send anyone else. This packet has the details." He regarded Leslie with a steady gaze. "For a bureaucrat, Wyatt's a fine man. God speed you."

They would sail on the next tide. The wind was in their favor, but the route was treacherous – tales were told of the ships that had foundered in the Muskegon shallows. And it was not a short voyage. First they would need to stop at Haverford's for victualling and supplies.

Haverford's was the most stylish store in town, by some accounts. Sleekly curved wood counters displayed case upon case of jewelry and frippery, gifts for sailors to take to sweethearts, with the gaudiest trinkets next to the till and offered two for the price of one. The shelves behind the counters were nearly empty; each compartment had a simple sketch of the item that would be stocked there. The proprietor, Tom Haverford, had explained the strategy when Leslie came in the month before, something to do with rarity and luxury. It hadn't quite made sense to Leslie, but she admired his gumption and knew that the shop's design would likely change again by the next time she was in port.

"Salutations!" Haverford greeted Leslie and April. "Welcome to Haverford's Fine Outfitting and Haberdashery. We have all the latest fashions in breeches and wigs, and have you covered with all the salt cod and hardtack you could ever – Leslie!" he broke off, seeing his customer. "Lucky Leslie Knope, my favorite captain. Heard about that maneuver with the merchant ship from Chicago, pretty slick operation." He nodded admiringly.

"I swear that was completely within the rules of engagement," Leslie said. "Or at least _my_ copy of them." She winked at Tom. "Did you know that little loophole has been on the books since '52?"

"I can honestly say that I didn't know there were rulebooks," Tom said. "Most of my customer base is semi-literate at best, your typical seamen. So I focus my research on the biggies – new ways to consume tobacco, there are some awesome things coming out of Virginia. And I just got this great new sextant – I call it _Sexy-tant_." He whipped it out from under the counter and waited for a response.

"That sounds amazing," Leslie said encouragingly.

"It's not exactly what I would call sexy," said April.

"Me either," said Mistress Donna Meagle, sweeping in. "He tried to sell me three of those last week. Do I look like I need a sextant? I have all the luxury navigation tools I need." Mistress Meagle owned one of the larger fleets of merchantmen in the upper Midwest.

"But are yours trimmed with genuine faux diamonds?" Tom asked, rotating the sextant to show them. "These are real diamond-look crystals, only the finest; I'm the first in town to stock them."

"Mine have a Swiss mechanism, German engineering, and come with their own navigator," said Donna. "There are a dozen beautiful, shirtless young men polishing them right now, while they wait for a more interesting assignment."

"Really?" said Leslie, perking up. "I'm sure my crew on shore leave will give you plenty of business."

"Who said it was a brothel?" said Donna. "Those are for me." Leslie nodded and decided to move on.

"We're all set for navigation," she said. "But we need food stores and ammunition, as much as you can give me for this." She emptied her purse on the counter. Her prize agent had given her an advance on this month's takings, so it was not a paltry amount.

"Dang," said Haverford. He started piling food into boxes, each one stenciled with his logo: a skull and crossbones with a jaunty sparrow perched atop.

"Where are you folks headed?" asked Mistress Meagle.

"North of Chicago," Leslie said. It was true, strictly speaking, but also misleading; the walls had ears, and there was no reason to tell them more than they needed to know. "Patrolling for privateers."

"Good luck," said Donna. "I don't need the competition." Leslie knew that Donna was suspected of taking a line in privateering herself, but she had to respect the woman's success.

* * *

Leslie's habit, ever since she started to rise in the ranks, was to think through her plans with an audience. These days it was most often her first lieutenant, April Ludgate. April might act uninterested in the subtleties of naval maneuvers, but Leslie was sure that, with the right role model, she would blossom into a fine commander one day.

"And so, if we approach from the southwest, we can hide on the far side of the island and not be spotted until we've already sent the strike force," she finished her explanation.

"Whatever," said April.

"Or do you think we should wait further out, and send the cutter?" Leslie mused. "You're right; dawn is the best time."

"I hate dawn," said April. "Too many cheerful metaphors. And Haverford was out of coffee, and we didn't have time to refill anywhere else."

"Au contraire!" said Leslie. She went to her cabinet and pulled out a canister. "From our last trip up Lake Erie, Ohio's best."

"I only like frigate-stop coffee," said April. "The best is when you can hold the cup upside-down and it only oozes out a little bit."

"That's disgusting," said Leslie, trying not to grimace. "But I admire your loyalty to your personal preferences."

"I guess I'll drink yours, though." April grabbed the canister and tucked it inside her jacket. "Thanks."

Leslie went back to studying the chart. Landing in the bay, they'd be a short distance from the outpost, but at a greater risk of being spotted. "Hey, do you think that's a path?" she asked, pointing to a faintly sketched line on the map.

A clattering approached in the passage outside; it sounded like it was bouncing back and forth on the walls. Yelps of "Ow!" followed each thump. Leslie and April both went to look.

An alien figure stumbled in, clad all in leather, its head a glass globe. "Check out this awesome adventure suit I found in the hold!" a muffled voice said. Leslie grabbed the globe firmly with both hands and tried to pull it off, but it was stuck in place. "Uh, getting hard to breathe in here," the voice continued. It sounded, unsurprisingly, like Andy Dwyer, their oldest midshipman. Leslie looked again and found a latch at the collar; she had the helmet off in a moment.

"Pretty rad, huh?" said Andy, after taking a deep breath and shaking his hair out. "Do you think it was from a costume party?" Leslie stared at him. "…Ma'am?" he said.

"Better," said Leslie. "I didn't want to see you called before the mast for disrespect." (She loved calling sailors before the mast for disrespect. She loathed having them whipped, but she made some great speeches about honor and rank before pardoning them.) The suit contraption was carefully stitched together, no gaps in the seams – "It's a diving suit," she said.

"Looks like a good way to drown," said April. "Midshipman Dwyer, I demand that you take it off so I can try it on." Andy started stripping it off and it became clear that he wasn't wearing anything beneath it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Leslie, averting her eyes.

With Andy putting the suit back on, April went back to studying the chart. "What if we used the diving thing?" she asked.

"April, excellent job thinking outside the box!" said Leslie. "What are you thinking?"

"I dunno, if someone was able to swim through that cave, they could throw a rope down from the top of the cliff for everyone else."

"You're totally right," said Leslie proudly. "It would be iffy just holding your breath; I don't know if we have a strong enough swimmer. But with the extra air in the diving apparatus, I think it could work!"

"And if they drown, at least they'd have a cool grave," said April.

"Lieutenant, are you volunteering to do it? I love volunteers!" Leslie did love volunteers; they were what made the Navy great. That and the maple syrup allowance.

* * *

It had been a clear night, but Leslie was fairly certain that they'd made their approach without being spotted. The  _Bonny Anne_ remained at anchor out to sea, while the team of six rowed in on the launch. They glided in towards the shore with gentle strokes of the oar; tall pines surrounded the inlet, and there were no lights in sight, no noises from the outpost on the other side of the island. They approached the sea-cave carefully, angling towards the entrance. They were fortunate to have calm waters; on a stormy night they would have been dashed against the cliffs, and even as it was, a strong current pulled them towards an ominous dark spot in the waters.

The boat stilled, and April assembled the diving suit. "Can I keep this afterward?" she asked. "I want to show up at my parents' wearing it when we get back on leave, and tell them to atone for their sins."

"Lieutenant Ludgate, if you get us up that cliff, you can have the diving suit and a batch of my cook's best brownies," said Leslie. "I could kiss you, except you look real creepy in that helmet."

"Yeah," said April. "Can I go now?"

"Any time you're ready!" said Leslie. They watched as April climbed over the side of the boat and swam into the cave. Leslie offered up a short, silent prayer for her to make it through safely; she knew April was well capable of this and more, but who knew what lurked in the cave? In the meantime, they would be waiting, and she didn't want the others to worry.

"It's going to take her at least an hour," Leslie said, padding her estimate, "so I think we should have a midnight breakfast first. We'll need our strength." She opened up her pack and started pulling out provisions.

"What's that?" asked Ann, opening a basket.

"Emergency waffles," Leslie said. "And beef jerky." She handed around rations; every piece of jerky was tied with a bow in that person's favorite color.

"Aww," said Ann. "I got red! I love red!" Leslie knew. As they snacked, they went back over the plan. Step one was to get near the fort without being seen. Leslie had been here before, back when it was still Pawnee territory. It should be easy to get her bearings in the moonlight. The trees would give them plenty of cover, as long as the Ministry's intelligence agents had been right that this side of the island had no recent settlements.

Once they got to the edge of the trees, they would split up. "Ann, you'll stay under the cover here," Leslie said. "You're here in case Ben – Undersecretary Wyatt needs immediate medical attention." Or in case anyone else was injured, but no need to bring that up. "Dwyer, Ms. Ludgate, and I will approach the fort from the rear, scale the outer palisade, and raid the prison. Our intelligence says that there's just one guard for a few minutes during the shift change, but we'll need to be ready for a fight if anyone else spots us."

"Piece of cake!" said Dwyer. "I am so ready."

"Thank you again for coming on this mission," Leslie said, looking at Andy and Ann in turn. "It's crucial to our fleet's success and our nation's safety. We have all faced danger before, but rarely without the bulwark of our ship. This boarding party is just us and our cutlasses, no artillery behind us, but I know that every one of you is as brave as a lioness protecting her cubs, and as loyal as can be." Leslie believed in the power of a good speech; their faces were shining with faith in her. "You have my trust, and my gratitude. I wouldn't want anyone else at my side."

A rope thumped down the cliff next to them. "Are you guys coming?" April called down.

"Ms. Ludgate!" Leslie shouted, then hushed herself. "You missed the motivational speech; do you want me to do it again?" She could hear April's eyes rolling. Didn't matter; she'd tucked a written copy into the packet of waffles that she was bringing up with April's name on it.

They made their way to the other side of the island swiftly and with no unpleasant surprises, although Leslie had a feeling there were a few cases of poison ivy in the infirmary's future. They crouched in the trees and studied the palisade. Smoke rose from a fire, but no lamplight showed beyond the wall, and no voices were heard. Not even a sentry on this side of the fort? It was either a stroke of luck, or they were missing something.

Scaling the wall was simple; it was crudely fashioned of small trees, and their boarding axes served the purpose well. As they reached the top, they heard shouts from somewhere inside, but it was too late to turn back; they tumbled down to the ground inside the fort. No one was in sight, and the voices hushed again.

At the prison, things started to go wrong. There were two guards instead of one; Leslie and April quickly overpowered them, but it made her wonder what other information was inaccurate. She ran down the hallway, the rest of the team far behind, and she looked for Ben in each cell, but most were empty. At the end she looked through a small, barred window and saw him, curled up in the corner.

"Ben!" she whispered. His head shot up.

"Leslie?" he said, slowly standing up and walking stiffly towards the door. "Are you real? I had a dream that you – watch out!" he shouted. Leslie twirled around to face an oncoming soldier, and neatly skewered him with her sword. She pulled the sword free and looked down the hallway. No one else appeared to be coming, and she had heard the jingle of keys from the soldier's belt. Yes, there it was, and Ben was free, Ben was hers again – if they could get out of the fort.

She wrapped her arm around Ben's waist and pulled him forward. She wanted to do so many other things, touch so many other places, but no time yet.

"The other guards – some sort of game," he gasped.

"Good," she said. "We want them distracted. Dwyer, give me hand here!" Andy tried to wrap Ben's arm around his shoulder, but after the three of them took a few stumbling six-legged steps, he slung Ben over his back and ran forward.

"Wait!" said Leslie. "Where are you going?" Andy got to the corner and stopped abruptly, Ben swinging behind him.

He pulled back and whispered. "Guards! At two o'clock." Leslie poked her head around the corner and pulled it back again.

"This way!" she said, hoping the spies' description of the prison had been accurate. They were outside and to the courtyard in a minute. The courtyard was dark but not empty. A group of soldiers were huddled on the far side, intent on something on the ground – oh, of course! Possum racing!

What a stroke of luck! That explained the shouts and the distraction; every group of armed men loved a possum race. And the rodents were fastest in the darkness. They edged along the wall, keeping an eye on the soldiers; they were almost back to the low spot where they'd climbed over, when Leslie stepped on something round and firm and heard it squeal – an opossum had escaped from the ring! She hissed at it, but it faced her with a hollow glare.

"Flash!" a shout came from the guards. "Where's Old Flash, did someone hide him?"

"We're not hiding your slacker of a rat," said another voice.

"He has potential!" A couple of men started looking around, and--

"Hey!" They'd been spotted.

"Up the wall!" Leslie said. April went first; she was a nimble climber. Leslie chunked her axe in for a handhold and pushed Andy towards it. He fumbled but managed to climb halfway with Ben still on his back. Ben's eyes were screwed shut and he winced with every thump.

"Almost there," Andy said, reaching for the top of the wall. "I think I've got—" Leslie saw him slipping; she leapt up beneath him and reached a hand to steady Ben by the shoulder. The men were at their heels; Leslie slashed her sword at them, then grabbed Andy's foot and boosted him until he could reach April's hand. He pulled her up after him, and they clambered down the other side.

There were guards coming from the front gate now, but if they could make it to the woods the cover was thick; they would be golden. Ten yards to go, five, and the enemy soldiers were still arguing about the possum – they had made it!

They kept going into the woods until they were sure they'd lost the pursuers. In the shelter of a hollow tree, Ann patted them each down for injuries. "Ben first," Leslie said.

"I'm okay," said Ben.

"Ann?" Leslie asked, ignoring Ben's protests but holding his hand tightly.

"His left ankle is sprained or maybe fractured," Ann said. "I'll splint it when we get back to the ship. Otherwise, probably bruised and dehydrated but fine." She patted Ben's shoulder and smiled, then moved on to Leslie.  
"Captain last!" Leslie insisted. She had a responsibility to her crew.

"You're bleeding," Ann said. "Looks like you took a good slash to the shoulder."

Leslie hadn't noticed, but she submitted to having the wound bound up – Ben tried to offer his shirt, but Ann had come prepared, more was the pity. Her arm was aching by the time they had rappelled back down the cliff to the launch. Andy handed Ben into the boat, then almost slipped from the side of the boat into the water, but he grabbed an oar and pulled himself back in. The sun was coming up as they rowed back to the _Bonny Anne_.

"Hey, where's Mr. Wyatt going to stay?" asked Andy. "All of the officers' quarters are full up."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," said Ann.

"Huh?" said Andy. Leslie looked up; Ben had fallen asleep and she had his head cradled in her lap. " _Oh_. Rock on, Captain."

* * *

"I don't know how to thank you," Ben said as they sailed back towards port. "That was amazing. You fought off three men single-handed!"

"Not single-handed," said Leslie. "April and Andy had my back."

"Still," said Ben. "I would have been screwed if it weren't for you. They thought I knew our plans for the western campaign; they had these interrogation instruments—" He stopped.

"It's okay," said Leslie. "You're with me now; I won't let anything else happen to you."

"I wish every voyage could be with you," said Ben. "You wouldn't have gotten me captured in the first place."

"That can be arranged," Leslie said.

"Really?"

"Trust me," Leslie murmured. In a few minutes she would need to get back to her ship – inspect the decks, check on their course, make sure Ann knew she was invited for dinner. Right now all she needed to do was kiss Ben, again and again.

This mission, like all of Captain Knope's missions, had succeeded thanks to thorough planning, quick thinking, and the faithful efforts of her crew. But with Ben in her arms, she knew that she _was_ the luckiest commander in the navy, or maybe the world. So they sailed on together, away from one adventure and on to the next.


End file.
